


The Inevitable

by ArcherExcell



Category: Hellboy - All Media Types
Genre: But not quite, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Making Up, Not Beta Read, Short One Shot, bprd, feels if you squint, mentions of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28638576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcherExcell/pseuds/ArcherExcell
Summary: A moment in-between all the chaos that is your life at the BPRD. Red gets a chance to finally say a few words he needs you to hear.
Relationships: Hellboy (Hellboy)/Original Character(s), Hellboy (Hellboy)/Original Female Character(s), Hellboy (Hellboy)/Reader, Hellboy (Hellboy)/You
Kudos: 21





	The Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back from years of writing hiatus, so excuse my shit plot and no substance. One shots for now until I can sack up and commit. 
> 
> Constructive criticism welcomed.
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s late in the evening. You aren’t sure the exact time, though it had been past 11 when you arrived back from your mission. You’ve been up for more than forty eight hours chasing witches in different dimensions, so you are exhausted and battered, though its highly possible that sleep won’t come for a few more hours.

The BPRD is buzzing with life tonight, as usual. Most calls come with the moons light, and the halls are almost always full of captured mystical folk and disgruntled agents. It’s at these times that the energy within the building resonates the loudest in your head. Being the only Mystic employed by the BPRD in over 75 years, no one thinks twice about your peculiar needs or abilities, and the headaches that come with them.

You have been laying in your silk covered bed for a few hours now. Sleep continues to elude you. Your black sheets are haphazardly thrown over your legs, and they get caught as you finally roll to the edge of your mattress. It takes a moment of flailing to untangle yourself, and when you are free of the soft sheet, you get up to head toward the bathroom.

Your room, the bathroom adjacent to it, and the hall leading to your quarters, you note, are exceptionally quiet as you make your way to the industrial sink. You turn the faucet on and wait for the water to run warm before splashing some on your face. It helps minutely to steady your thoughts when you massage your temples and under your eyes in attempt to alleviate pressure.

You know you are beyond capable of doing anything productive at the moment, so instead of mulling about your room in attempt to do any busy work, you take some pain meds from your mirrored cabinet, toss them in your mouth, and grab an old red robe from the back of the bathroom door to throw on over your old tee and shorts.

The bureau is known, in part, for its lively inhabitants and their extraordinary talents. No matter the time of day, there is always something interesting occurring. It’s this assurance, aside from your small amount of friends, that you deem it appropriate to leave your quarters instead of trying, and failing, to fall asleep. 

As you use the access panel by your steel vault door, the numbers 3:33 am shine dimly on the corner of the control pad in your peripheral. You barely acknowledge the irony of the witching hour as you step out of the old vault-turned- room with bare feet and into the thick air of the underground tunnels.  
The halls are tempered to a comfortable 70 degrees year around, but every time you emerge from your cool room, you miss your chilled air immediately. Since the bureau plucked you from the caves of Greenland a few years ago and brought you to Colorado, you’ve found yourself inclined to the cooler, less crowded areas of the building.

The concrete is delightfully chilly underneath your toes, but you pay no mind as you make your way around your floor. The kitchens are full of life as you pass, Fae and human chefs prepare for the day’s meals. You peak in momentarily to watch their synchronization as they hustle about. 

No one pays you any mind as you search for an easy snack. Not too far from the door, freshly baked croissants are cooling on a shelf. You pluck one from the tray quickly and flounder away before anyone takes notice.

The higher levels of the building are tempting to visit, but you choose last minute to pass the elevators and head to a less populated place to eat your spoils. 

The least visited area, aside from your side of the 4th level basement, is the left wing of the expansive two story library. The connected third floor that hosts most of the late night meetings also contained the north wall of Abraham’s tank, so when you need time to yourself but also the close proximity of your friend, you find yourself huddled against the far wall near the fireplace. It’s a perfect view of the area around you, and if you want to hold conversation with Abe, all you have to do is raise your voice.

Its unusually quiet when you enter through the large oak doors. The carpet is thick and soft between your toes. You are a little underwhelmed with the lack of personnel on this level, so instead of searching for your aquatic friend a level above, which you are sure isn’t there, you tuck yourself against a long leather sofa near the blazing fire and grab a book from the shelf behind you.

Brothers Grimm is one of your go-to's. Working with the paranormal, along side being a paranormal, you find interesting little myths or less popular stories entertaining. You enjoy the fables more than living the real deal, so these inaccurate recollections are an easy and welcomed distraction.

Quite some time later, as you are nearing the end of a chapter and your headache is dying down, voices near the upstairs entrance. The familiarity sits with ease in your chest for only moments. Once you’ve processed the reality of approaching coworkers and friends, you sink your back further into the couch in an attempt to minimize the chance of you being seen by him.

You figure a debriefing is about to take place at the large center table upstairs, like the one you attended yesterday. Hellboy and his team are due back any day, so it’s no surprise when his voice bellows out in the silent library as the doors open. He enters first, Abe and Liz close on his heels. The professor strolls lazily in far behind.

Your heart clenches and you silently pray to the stars that none of them take notice of you. You aren’t mentally prepared to be around them all at once. Especially big red. 

Hellboy and Liz are arguing as usual, so you watch them overhead, near the banister as you attempt to move quietly away from sight.

You are almost to a darkened corner when Abe catches you with a sideways glance. A sheepish grin makes it’s way to the corner of your lips, and you wave pathetically as you continue out of sight. 

Abe watches as you slink into the shadows. It’s not uncommon to find you in the library, though recently, he found, you kept to your room more and more often. The reason for your scarce visits didn’t allude him though. 

He is well aware of the recent development of unease between you and the big guy. He doesn’t blame you really. You were never one for confrontation, besides the daily dose of saving the world, and since your last encounter real with big red, you’ve become more withdrawn.

“And what’s so wrong with that,” Hellboy questions Liz from his seat at the head of the table. He throws his hand up in question, though it’s more of a flail. He's fairly drunk; after such a horrible mission, they all might as well be.

Abe watches as Liz huffs in bewilderment and quips back a retort. They continue on as Abe relays the more important aspects of their mission to the professor.

“Even separated, they find something to argue about,” he acknowledges as he takes a report from Abe's outstretched hand. 

Hellboy ignores the scrutinizing gaze of his father as he continues his inebriated defensive monologue.

Abe sighs. “I’ll have him write his when he sobers up more,” he turns his eyes from Hellboy and glances over the rail to the lower level before turning towards the professor again. 

Though the big monkeys always fighting with Sherman, it’s extremely rare that you and him are at odds. Two months have passed since your disagreement, and neither of you have addressed the elephant in the room since, so-to-speak. You barely exchange words with him now; pleasantries and necessities are crucial when at meetings or on missions, but nothing more than that.

You reiterate to your coworkers that you are busy and need space, but he knows you better than that. 

A night not unlike this one those months ago, you and Hellboy had arrived back to the bureau after a ridiculously botched mission. Abe was unsure at first, when you both walked into the library arguing; your passively soft voice lowered in anger with tears threatening to fall from your eyes, and Hellboy's brows clenched in mock challenge. It is when Abe hears Hellboy dismiss you loudly with an equally as mocking tone “Who else? You? That doesn’t count. She’s different. Normal” in response to your validation that it was, in fact, possible for someone to care for a creature such as he, that he knows you lose confidence in yourself and your relationship with Hellboy.

You’ve always had a thing for the big guy, but you keep your distance. He and Liz have been on and off for years, and you know he loves her. You are always supportive and try to never get caught up in their drama. Too many nights you’ve stayed up with him after their fights. Many more times you’ve have to coax drinks from him and send him to bed. Every time is with a heavy silent heart. So Abe watches from a distance as you deflate and agree disheartedly, despite your true feelings and intentions. He sees you leave as Hellboy tries to backpedal and observes how heavily he drinks after you’re gone.

Abe knows how much of a recluse you are, and how dear your small amount of friends are to you. With a total of three people whom you go out of your way for, it’s understandable to be dejected and standoffish.

Liz gives a last complaint to Hellboy as she leaves, slamming the door behind her. He notes Hellboy’s wave in dismissal as he bids the professor goodnight.

Soon, you hear the commotion upstairs die down from your spot in the shadows below. You finish your book moments later and find yourself returning to the sofa near the fireplace in silence. It’s a bit warmer, though you aren’t inclined to the heat, and slowly your eyes droop as you daydream of better days and less complication. 

You are not sure where you are when you feel a hand grasp your shoulder. You are startled for a moment before you note the embers instead of flames, and a large red form standing in their dim light.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. The hand is still there, and squeezes you gently as you rise up from your curled position on the cushion.

Hellboy kneels down before you and observes your lack of awareness. “Hey girly, how'd you get so far from bed?” his voice is soft and deep; you cant help but smile warmly when he fondly waits for a reply.

You blink groggily, but are confused and can’t answer. Sleep holds you tight in its embrace, and you can’t shake the feeling that days of sleep deprivation leaves within you.

You rub your eyes, but that isn’t enough to keep you fully alert. Your eyes burn, and you prepare to lay your head on the armrest behind you to quell the feeling of heaviness in your head.

The hand on your shoulder encases the back of your neck as your body tilts and your eyes close. “C'mon, let’s get you back.”

Thick arms encase you, but pull back when they brush against something underneath your robe and you breathe slowly in discomfort.

You are still completely out of it when Hellboy pulls your robe gently from your shoulders. He immediately spots the edges of a thick bandage under the collar of your bed shirt.

“Shit. Sorry babe,” he whispers as he pulls your robe back into place. This time, he’s more careful as he scoops you up. He shifts you slightly, so it’s easy to lean into him, and you drift back to sleep in his arms as he carries you out of the library.

“I’m sorry, you know?” His voice pulls you from the darkness, and your brain barely registers that he’s here, carrying you back to your room. His footsteps are heavy and the echo is hypnotizing.

It’s easier to dismiss whatever he’s apologizing for than hold a conversation. You hum out something along the lines of no big deal.

Hellboy’s chest restricts underneath you with an incredulous chuff. “You’re half asleep. Shut up,” he nudges your forehead with his chin and continues. “When we fought. What I said. I,” he hesitates as he nears your door, “I-" he trails off.

He stops at your door, and leans forward to allow you access to the lock panel. You reach out unconsciously like its second nature to scan your palm.

The door’s lock clicks open, and the door opens slightly. Hellboy uses a foot to push it completely open and out of his way. He feels your deep sigh as the cooler air engulfs you both.

His voice startles you. “You really aren’t like her, or anyone else,” he reasons as he closes the door with a hip.

You are blinking now, still exhausted but alert enough to answer fully this time. “Don’t wanna be,” you mutter, mostly incoherent, into his heat as he moves towards your bed in the far-left corner.

“No, you wanna be like you,” he agrees gently as his arms squeeze you cautiously to him. “You are different. And if I’m being honest, you and your opinion mean a lot more to me than I’m comfortable admitting.”

He stops at the side of your bed and leans down to place you against your pillows. “You mean a lot,” is whispered, and you almost miss it. Arms slip from underneath you, and despite your earlier trepidation towards the big ape, you miss his presence.

Your hand manages to catch his flesh one as he brings a sheet over you. You don’t say anything, mostly because you don’t have the awareness level appropriate to respond, but you do grasp his hand as tightly as you can.

His stone hand comes up to swipe hair from your eyes as his fingers of his other lock with yours. “Got the shit kicked out of me on our last mission. Honestly thought I wouldn’t make it home,” his lips frown and his tail whips nervously from side to side behind him. Eyebrows furrow as he drops his gaze to the large navy rug that covers most of your floor. “But I thought about you, and how much of a dick I’ve been to you. I’ve been drinking, fighting with Liz… You always have my back. And,” he pauses to catch your half-closed eyes in his gaze. “And you’re important. To me. I need you to know that. I can handle everyone else being mad, or leaving. I’ve survived her. But I don’t want that from you. I don’t think I could survive you too.”

You snuggle into the sheets and grasp at his stone hand too. For a moment, you search his eyes for nothing in particular. The gruff beauty of his face always ignites an internal longing for something you don’t think you can have, and you close your eyes as you pull his hands to your face. This feels like a dream, but you don’t care. Lips meet knuckles before being pressed fully into your face. 

“-m not goin’ anywhere,” your voice is soft and raspy, still full of sleep. You don’t want him to sound so sad, so you plan to say more, but it takes everything in you to keep your eyes open and on him, so you hold fast to his hands still as you start to lose your battle.

“I hope not,” he smirks as he untangles his hands from yours. You rouse again in attempt to find him before he disappears, and his flesh hand comes back to cup your face. “Sleep, babe. I’ll bring you some pain meds when you get up. We can even have a real conversation if you like,” he chuckles as you hum in response. 

Hellboy places his forehead gingerly on yours before releasing you, and you succumb to darkness watching his duster flow openly behind him when he rises and turns to leave.

You are extremely groggy when you wake again. You aren’t sure what part of the day it is, but you suspect that it’s almost evening. 

It’s dark in your room. The only light that reaches your eyes comes from the small LEDs above the bathroom mirror shining through the open bathroom door. You squint for a moment, allowing your eyes to adjust, before you roll to the side of the bed. 

On your side table sits a glass of water, and a bottle of your favorite aspirin. As you reluctantly pull yourself into a sitting position, your head throbs rhythmically. You don’t spare a thought as the pills are swallowed, and the water downed.

As you lay back on your bed, you try to recall how you got there. You are entirely sure that you had been in the library when you fell asleep, so waking back in your room leaves you discombobulated and confused. But only for a moment.

You remember seeing him. Hellboy. He said something, or a few things…. While you were on the couch… And he brought you to bed?

So much for keeping distance.


End file.
